


Wild and Untamed Thing

by Magnolia822



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossdressing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia822/pseuds/Magnolia822
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each weekend the Merlin crew performs The Rocky Horror Picture Show as a live cast. Merlin Emrys, a cross-dressing drama student, is certain he shouldn’t crush on the traditional and ostensibly straight Arthur Pendragon. Shenanigans ensue. Starring: Merlin as Frank-n-Furter, Arthur as Brad, Gwen as Janet, Morgana as Magenta, Elena as Columbia, Leon as Riff Raff, Percival as Rocky, and Gwaine as Eddie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild and Untamed Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to AsyaAna for the beta!

  
He gazes into the mirror, applies the lipstick that he loves. Flame red. That’s how Merlin feels when he’s playing Frank, like he’s flickering, warm between his thighs where his cock rests snug in his leather undies. The makeup is one of his favorite parts, and he’s practiced at it now, lining his eyes in black in one swipe, smudging the dark blue eye shadow on his lids. Puckering his lips, he gets rid of the excess color and glances over his shoulder at the rest of the cast, all in varying states of nakedness.  
  
They share a giant dressing room. Not that it’s really a dressing room. It’s the sacristy at an old deconsecrated church in the Village, now an indie movie theatre where Rocky Horror plays every weekend. It’s been eight months since Merlin joined the regular live cast, and since then they’ve become a huge, dysfunctional family.  
  
“You look beautiful, dahhhling,” says Morgana, giving him a wet kiss on the cheek.  
  
She’s the perfect Magenta: wild hair and long legs. The French maid outfit suits her perfectly, not that Merlin hasn’t been jealous on occasion, wanting to wear the shiny black taffeta himself. She sashays away, sees Merlin looking in the mirror, and blows him a kiss. He pretends to catch it, then licks his hand, gives her a wink. She thrusts out her hip and slaps her ass. Merlin laughs.  
  
Percy. Percy’s another matter altogether. He’s maybe six foot six, and with arms that could crush a skull if he were so inclined. But, like his character Rocky, he’s a gentle giant. Merlin would have fucked him long before if Percy wasn’t secretly in love with Leon, the cast’s Riff Raff. Maybe it wasn’t so secret. During last weeks’ cast party Merlin had walked in on a heavy snogging session between the two of them, both drunk off their asses, Leon still wearing his Riff Raff bald cap and stringy wig. Merlin’d decided right then it must be love because he wouldn’t have touched Leon with a ten-foot pole still dressed like that. Not that he hasn’t touched Leon other times.  
  
The rest of the cast moves in a blur, people running back and forth, squealing, laughing, adjusting their costumes. Gwaine, or Eddie as he likes to be called while in character, is already sporting his greased hair and leather jacket. He gives Merlin a wink and Merlin rolls his eyes. Yeah, Gwaine’s hot, but he’s been there, done that. Sadly, the guy’s cock isn’t half as big as his posturing would make one think.  
  
Merlin pulls his gaze away from the mirror and grabs one long fishnet stocking, pointing his toes and rolling it on before attaching it to the garter at his waist. There’s a small run in the fabric. Ah, it can’t be helped, not when they have to be on stage in five minutes. He rolls up the other stocking, runs his hand over the elastic flush at his thigh. Already, he’s starting to feel more like himself . . . until the door opens, Merlin’s eyes shoot up, and he meets the gaze of Arthur Pendragon.  
  
Arthur is their Brad. His girlfriend Gwen, or ex-girlfriend if rumor is to believed, is Janet. Of course he’s fucking beautiful: blond, tall, perfect ass. Merlin has seduced half the cast but he’s never seduced Arthur. Not that he’s tried. Arthur is straight. Even though Arthur teases him and steals his clothes and sometimes gets a little too involved in their on-stage humping scene, there’s nothing between them. Nothing. Because Arthur is one of _them._  
  
“Hey there, gorgeous,” Arthur says, swaggering over and planting a kiss on his cheek.  
  
Merlin arches an eyebrow, sticks out his foot to put on one of his six-inch platforms. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” he replies.  
  
Arthur is sweaty, dressed in his white shirt and boxer shorts, and Merlin wonders why he’s not in full costume yet. He’ll have to put on more clothes to do the proposal scene, but God Arthur has nice thighs. Merlin wouldn’t mind seeing them sans undies. Come to think of it, Arthur’s the only guy in the cast he hasn’t seen naked at one point or another.  
  
“Need some help?” Arthur asks. Merlin’s got his wig in his hands—it’s the one part of his costume he doesn’t enjoy. Long hair is not his thing.  
  
“Sure,” he says.  
  
Merlin leans back in the rickety chair and lets Arthur place the curly Tim Curry wig on his head, fastening it with pins. It’s their ritual, and one Merlin looks forward to even though he knows he shouldn’t. Arthur’s hands on his head are gentle, dexterous. The wig is in place in less than a minute.  
  
“Thanks,” Merlin says, standing and adjusting his black corset, the lace and leather he wears proudly every Saturday night. People love him. Fratboys and housewives, gay men and straight, they all come to watch him perform Frank-n-Furter, the socially transgressive, yet safe, transsexual.  
  
They catcall and holler, climb on the stage and gyrate against him, especially the show’s _virgins_. Girls grab his junk and he lets them. Guys kiss him and he revels in it, giving them tongue they can go home and tell their wives about.  
  
It’s a game, and Merlin’s at the center. He makes them feel open-minded and daring, and they make him feel the things he likes are okay. Arthur’s just one of them, dazzled by his prancing, the way he wears his makeup and slips into the role. None of it is real. They don’t know how much it’s taken for him to be here performing in public.  
  
But now, standing next to Arthur, he feels . . . strange. Arthur is smiling into the mirror, arm slung over Merlin’s nearly naked shoulders, but the two of them couldn’t look more different.  
  
Merlin swallows, so tempted to lean into Arthur’s side.  
  
“You’re gonna be great tonight,” Arthur whispers against his ear. The hot breath tickles, and Merlin shivers.  
  
“Oh, well . . .”  
  
“You’re great every night.”  
  
Before Merlin can respond, Arthur’s pulled away by Gwen, dressed in a sedate skirt and blouse combo that won’t last long on stage. She smiles at Merlin and gives Arthur a scolding look. One minute to go.  
  
It won’t do to think about how perfect they look together. Merlin smooths himself and checks out his ass in the mirror. He’s been exercising (the first time in his twenty-one years) and it shows. His makeup is perfect. He twirls and Gwaine whistles from the other side of the room.  
  
“You ready?” Elena creeps up behind him, plants a lipsticky kiss on the side of his face to join Morgana’s. As Columbia, she’s one of the most popular members of the cast.  
  
“You know it, baby,” Merlin replies.  
  
The show begins with Brad and Janet’s engagement. Merlin watches from the wings as Arthur and Gwen pantomime the scene; he can’t help laughing at Arthur’s perfect expressions, always the flustered virgin. Every time someone says _Brad_ the audience screams the requisite _ASSHOLE_ and even the rest of the cast occasionally joins in. Gwen is amazing as Janet, and the stage is soon littered with rice that Merlin will have to look out for in his high-heels.  
  
It’s a pleasure, as always, when the unsuspecting couple’s car breaks down in the rain, forcing them to take refuge at Dr. Frank-n-Furter’s mansion. Leon and Morgana don’t waste any time stripping their new guests, and Arthur—or Brad—looks delicious in his all white, chaste undergarments. Merlin feels the burgeoning need to corrupt him, which is probably pretty useful character motivation. The scene goes on and Merlin readies himself for his big entry, breathing deeply.  
  
“How do you do I . . . see you’ve met my . . . faithful handyman . . .”  
  
“HANDJOB MAN,” the audience calls with delight.  
  
Merlin struts across the stage, swinging his hips to massive audience applause. This is his moment, the song everyone knows. _Sweet Transvestite_. It’s playful and fun, and Merlin always has a blast playing along with Morgana, Elena, and Leon, inducting the innocent Brad and Janet into the crazy world of transsexual, bisexual aliens.  
  
“Don’t get strung out—”  
  
“ON COCAINE!”  
  
“—by the way I look, don’t judge a book by it’s cov-er-ha. I’m not much of a man by the light of day, but by night I’m—”  
  
“A SICK MOTHER-FUCKER!”  
  
“—one hell of a lov-er-ha.”  
  
Merlin gives Arthur—Brad—a lascivious grin with the last words. He can’t help himself. While he’s in character, it’s okay to let his attraction shine through. Frank is audacious, an equal opportunity kind of guy, and Arthur always plays the perfect mix of incredulity and alarm. He clutches at Gwen’s arm and tries, and fails, to find an exit as Merlin advances.  
  
“I could show you my favorite obsession—”.  
  
“SEX!”  
  
“—I've been making a man.”  
  
“WHAT'S HE LOOK LIKE?”  
  
“With blonde hair and a tan.”  
  
“WHAT'S HE GOOD FOR?”  
  
“And he's good for relieving my—”  
  
“HARD ON!”  
  
“—tension.”  
  
“SAME THING!”  
  
After the number, there’s just a brief moment of reprieve before Merlin unveils his creation—Percival, oiled up and wearing Rocky’s trademark gold underwear.  
  
The rest of the film flies by until the scene where the newly engaged couple is parted and installed in separate bedrooms, thereby allowing Frank to seduce them. First Janet, then Brad.  
  
Merlin’s never uncomfortable rolling around with Gwen on stage—they always have a laugh. But when it’s time for Frank to sneak into Brad’s room, Merlin’s heart pounds like he’s running a marathon. Arthur’s lying on the floor wearing nothing but a pair of white boxer shorts, and Merlin’s glad the leather underwear he has on disguises his interested cock. He’s supposed to get on top of Arthur, but he never goes so far as to press their groins together—it would give him away for sure.  
  
When he approaches, Arthur-as-Brad pretends to sleep. Merlin crawls up and allows his lips to brush against the inside of Arthur’s knee.  
  
They go through the initial misunderstanding, until Arthur sits up, shocked. “You!”  
  
“I’m afraid so Brad, but isn't it nice?” Merlin presses him back down to the floor and straddles him, and Arthur looks up, lips parted, confusion and lust playing over his features. It does something strange to Merlin’s insides, makes his stomach twist with nerves and something else. God, he’s so beautiful like this, spread and ready.  
  
“Oh come on Brad, admit it. You liked it, didn't you? There's no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure.” No one else can hear him, but Merlin leans down to whisper the lines to Arthur. He can almost believe that the two of them are alone until the audience calls:  
  
“EXCEPT IN NEW YORK!”  
  
Arthur’s hands grip his hips, and then move down to squeeze his thighs, fingers dipping just barely under the tops of his fishnets. Merlin smirks down at Arthur, but inside he’s a mess. Arthur’s never touched him like this. “Brad, we've wasted so much time already. Janet needn't know, I won't tell her.”  
  
Arthur nods, bites his bottom lip, and the hands on Merlin’s thighs start massaging. It’s so fucking distracting. “Well if you promise you won't tell . . .” Arthur—Brad says. His lids are heavy, and either Arthur is an amazing actor or . . .  
  
“On my mother's grave,” Merlin promises.  
  
“DON'T TALK WITH YOUR MOUTH FULL, FRANK!”  
  
Leon-as-Riff Raff interrupts the scene, but as Merlin slides off Arthur’s lap, he’s stunned when his leg grazes over a rather noticeable erection. His eyes go wide, body flushing hot, but Arthur’s not looking at him. He’s already clambering up, back turned. It takes Merlin longer than a beat to get himself together.  
  
By the final number of the night, Merlin’s makeup is smeared, his lipstick half gone. The audience roars and half of them approach the stage to get pictures taken, some of the regulars in costumes as good as the casts’. Merlin smiles and poses and gives them what they want—this is the part he usually loves—but he’s still replaying that moment between him and Arthur again and again and again. He felt Arthur’s cock. It was undeniably hard. _Fuck._  
  
“You and Arthur were pretty hot tonight,” Elena says back in the sacristy. She’s primping her red hair and re-swiping her lipstick. Usually they all go out after a performance, sometimes to a dive bar, sometimes to one of their apartments. Apparently, tonight is a bar night.  
  
“Oh?” Merlin dabs at his eyes with a cotton swab.  
  
“Don’t you play dumb with me, Merlin.” Elena gives him a wink. “I know you like him.”  
  
Merlin suddenly feels twelve, not twenty-one. He glares at her, casting a look over his shoulder to make sure they’re not being overheard. Everyone else seems occupied, and the room is filled with laughter and excited chatter. Arthur is on the other end of the room talking to Gwen.  
  
“Yeah, well, it’s not gonna happen, so . . .”  
  
“Why the hell not? I think he’s into you.”  
  
Merlin shakes his head, pulling a see-through mesh shirt over his corset. “Arthur’s not gay, and anyway, he’s with Gwen.”  
  
“He’s _not._ They broke up weeks ago, I’ve been telling you.”  
  
It’s true, Elena has been telling him, but he hasn’t taken her seriously. In any case, improbable fantasies about straight men aren’t good for his mental health. Still, what happened tonight . . . the look on Arthur’s face . . .  
  
He stands up and pulls on a black leather skirt over his fishnets and garter, but opts for trading out the platform shoes for combat boots. Merlin has plans to get good and drunk, and the last thing he needs is a twisted ankle.  
  
“I’m just sayin’,” Elena continues, “the guy can’t keep his eyes off you. Trust me. For instance right now . . .” Her eyes shift to the other side of the room, and without thinking, Merlin looks.  
  
She’s right. Arthur’s staring at them. Merlin's face heats, sure it’s obvious what they’ve been talking about. He looks away but Arthur’s on his way over already. Merlin’s heart thuds against his ribs.  
  
“You coming out tonight?” Arthur asks him. Merlin looks to Elena for assistance but she’s already flitted away.  
  
“Yeah,” Merlin says, finding his voice. He tries to channel the confidence of Frank. “You?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Cool,’ he says lamely.  
  
Just then Gwaine sidles up and musses Merlin’s hair. Now free of the wig, it’s sticking up at all angles.  
  
“Knock it off, you,” Merlin says, batting the hand away. He pats his hair down, but it’s a losing battle. It has a mind of its own.  
  
“Let’s go, Princess,” Gwaine replies, giving Merlin a kiss on the cheek. “We’re headed out.”  
  
Before he can protest, Merlin is being swept off away from Arthur. He chances a look over his shoulder and sees Arthur standing with a scowl on his face.  
  
The bar of choice is a raucous, loud, gay friendly local. It’s one they frequent often, and the staff and half of the customers are familiar faces. Merlin heads to the bar straight away for two shots of tequila and winds up engrossed in a conversation with Leon and Percival about the latest overhyped Tony-award-winning play. Merlin’s in his fourth year at Julliard, but the others are recent graduates, and they’ve all been struggling to find roles in a city over-capacity with their ilk.  
  
Occasionally Merlin’s eyes drift away to find Arthur—half the time their eyes meet, the other half Arthur’s talking to someone else and Merlin feels a strange flare of jealousy. Every time he tries to seek Arthur out, he runs into someone he knows, a friend, an ex-lover, a fan, and as the night wears on he grows increasingly disconsolate. Arthur hasn’t even tried to approach him. What happened on stage earlier didn’t mean anything at all.  
  
At a little after one a.m., Merlin realizes he’s drunk. _Good._ He accepts another shot of tequila from the guy he’s been chatting with—an out-of-towner who’d been to the show and seems utterly charmed by Merlin. He’s good looking enough, taller than Merlin, with sandy brown hair and dark eyes, but, Merlin realizes, he’s not Arthur.  
  
In fact, Merlin isn’t sure where Arthur is. The last time he saw him was at least twenty minutes ago. Maybe he left. Merlin decides right then he doesn’t care.  
  
“You want another?” the guy says, leaning in closer. Merlin can smell the whiskey on his breath.  
  
It roils his stomach, but even so he says, “Sure. Yeah.”  
  
The guy smiles like he’s just won the lottery, and there it is, a hand on Merlin’s waist, fingers curling around his side. Fuck it, if this guy wants sex Merlin might as well. He’s not going to waste his time on someone who’ll never want him the way he is. Merlin can deal with this anonymous man’s fetish, but in the light of day he’d never introduce Merlin to his mother. Neither would Arthur.  
  
 _Hey, Mom, this is my boyfriend, Merlin. He likes to dress like a woman. We’re getting married, is that cool with you?_  
  
What the fuck is he even thinking? Merlin takes the shot of tequila and tips his head back, feeling the burn. He’s getting a little too fuzzy around the edges, and then the guy’s lips are on Merlin’s neck. He leans back and feels an erection poke into his hip, but Merlin’s not aroused in the least.  
  
“Don’t,” he says, pushing at the guy’s chest.  
  
No response. The guy mouths at him, leaving a trail of too-wet kisses.  
  
“I said stop.” Merlin’s voice is a bit more forceful now, and the guy pulls away, horny-drunk-stupid-looking.  
  
“Is everything okay, Merlin?” It’s a voice he instantly recognizes. Arthur has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and Merlin wants to sink into the floor.  
  
“I’m . . . it’s fine.” He steps away from the guy, mortified about what this must look like, wishing he could disappear.  
  
“I thought you were into me,” the guy says.  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m not. So . . .” He’s being unnecessarily harsh and he knows it; the guy didn’t mean any harm.  
  
Apparently Merlin’s new friend isn’t so easily dissuaded. He leans closer again, puts his arm around Merlin, but Merlin shrugs him off.  
  
“Hey. He doesn’t want you touching him,” Arthur says, getting up in the guy's face.  
  
Merlin frowns. He doesn’t appreciate being treated like he can’t take care of himself. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor,” he tells Arthur, a little more emphatically than intended.  
  
Arthur scowls from one to the other of them. “Fine,” he says, backing off before turning and walking away.  
  
God, Merlin has been a complete idiot. He pushes past the guy and runs after Arthur, who’s already halfway to the exit of the bar.  
  
“Arthur, wait.”  
  
Arthur whirls around, his face livid.  
  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t . . . I mean . . . I appreciate you watching out for me. But it wasn’t what it looked like,” Merlin continues. “That guy was harmless. I’m not—”  
  
“It’s fine. I get the message, loud and clear.”  
  
“No, you—I just don’t see why it should matter to you.” It’s a stupid response, and he knows it. But he can’t think clearly, not with the alcohol and the music and the way Arthur’s looking at him.  
  
Arthur barks a laugh, steps forward. “I think it was a little obvious earlier, _Mer_ lin.”  
  
“Fuck,” Merlin’s voice catches on the word. They’re standing so close Merlin can feel Arthur’s body heat, smell him, and the reaction of his own body is immediate. He goes hard and aching between his thighs, cock still trapped by leather.  
  
“I’ve wanted you forever. I thought I was making it perfectly clear, and then you go and flirt with half the men in the bar, but you don’t even spare me a minute.”  
  
“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice is soft, his brain unraveling with shock and terror. “I was trying to talk to you, I just kept getting caught up and then I though you were gone and—”  
  
“And you thought you’d just fuck whatever man bought you a drink?” Arthur’s eyes are fierce, but there’s raw lust there alongside anger. How had Merlin never noticed it before?  
  
“No. No. I didn’t want him. I-I . . . want you. I _only_ want you.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Merlin realizes they’re true. He can’t fucking believe how much he wants Arthur. “I was just angry because I never thought—”  
  
He can’t finish his statement because Arthur’s lips are on his, claiming, demanding. It’s so surprising Merlin doesn’t respond for a second, but when he feels the tip of Arthur’s tongue trace the seam of his lips, he lets Arthur inside. It’s like Arthur’s hungry for him, the way he opens him up, lips and teeth and the slippery rub of tongues. Merlin’s cock strains against his briefs, and then firm hands are at his hips, gentle, pulling him close. The shock of Arthur’s arousal against his hip makes Merlin groan.  
  
By now they’re drawing the interested stares of their cast mates who are seated at a nearby table. Morgana, currently straddling Gwaine’s lap, points between the two of them and mimes a blowjob. This earns her a round of hooting laughs from the rest.  
  
“About time!” Leon calls out.  
  
“Get a room!” shouts Percival.  
  
“No, stay! We want to watch!” says one of the girls. Merlin doesn’t know whether it’s Elena, Gwen, or Morgana because Arthur’s cupping his face, eyes tender.  
  
“Really?” Arthur asks. His mouth is smeared with Merlin’s lipstick, which would have been funny if it wasn’t so hot.  
  
“Really,” Merlin replies, still breathless from the kiss. “Um . . . yeah.” He makes a move to kiss again, but Arthur shakes his head.  
  
Before he knows what’s happening, Merlin is being dragged out of the bar and away from the prying eyes of their friends. The air is warm and humid when they step into the night, and Merlin allows himself to be willingly led down the alley at the side of the bar. Not the most romantic of locations, but Merlin doesn’t care; he needs Arthur’s cock. Now.  
  
Arthur’s just as eager. He presses Merlin against the wall, and Merlin’s hands are in his hair, drawing Arthur to him to give him a proper kiss. Merlin’s sure he’s never been so turned on in his life. It’s something about Arthur, the way their bodies react to one another. It’s stronger than chemistry, an undeniable force Merlin wonders at ever resisting. Somewhere in the midst of their kissing, Merlin’s leg has ridden up around Arthur’s hip and Arthur has begun a slow, maddening grind. When they finally pull away, Arthur’s pupils are blown.  
  
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Arthur says, panting breath against his cheek. “Wearing these.” He slips his hand under Merlin’s skirt, fingers the tops of his fishnets. “So fucking hot.”  
  
“I didn’t think you were into guys,” Merlin says.  
  
Arthur smiles. “I’m into you.”  
  
“You do know that . . . I’m a guy . . . though,” Merlin says, not really sure how to articulate his anxiety.  
  
Arthur chuckles, grinds his hips forward, and Merlin’s eyes roll back at the pressure on his cock.  
  
“I’d kind of noticed. Yeah.”  
  
“But you . . .” Merlin fights the fog of lust that’s clouding his brain. “You don’t mind that I . . . you know, wear what I wear?”  
  
Arthur answers him by kissing his neck, growling in his ear. “Mind? I fucking love it.”  
  
After that, there’s not much talking. Merlin finally gets Arthur’s cock out, and it’s his turn to press Arthur against the wall. Gorgeous. He takes his time, working Arthur’s thick cock, giving it long, slow licks before wrapping his lips against the head, squeezing the base and the balls with his hands. Arthur’s head falls back, hands carding through Merlin’s hair, and Merlin lets Arthur fuck his mouth. It doesn’t take long. Soon Arthur is moaning, probably loud enough for passersby to hear, and Merlin looks up through mascara-coated lashes, watching Arthur come.  
  
When he stands up again, Arthur draws him into a hug, his wet prick going soft between them.  
  
“I want to see you,” Arthur says. “Please.”  
  
“Okay. But not here.”  
  
They decide on Arthur’s apartment because it’s nearer. He shares a place with a fellow NYU graduate student, but he has his own room, which is good enough for Merlin.  
  
Arthur’s roommate is home when they arrive, and Arthur introduces them. He’s been to the show before and doesn’t seem at all surprised to see Merlin there, which makes Merlin smile as Arthur leads him away to his room.  
  
Arthur’s room smells like him, and it’s terribly messy. Arthur immediately gathers some dirty laundry off the floor, shoves it in the closet. The bed’s unmade, comforter hanging halfway off, and when Arthur goes to adjust it, Merlin grabs his hand.  
  
“We’re just going to mess it up again,” he says. “C’mere.”  
  
They turn on some music loud enough to drown out their noises and meet in the center of the room for a long, kiss. Before long, Merlin feels Arthur get hard again, and he’s hard too, desperate to be touched.  
  
And then Arthur’s hand is pressing against his groin and God, it’s almost enough to make him come.  
  
“I just want to . . .”  
  
“What?” Merlin asks.  
  
Even in the dim light, he can see Arthur’s face flush.  
  
“Tell me,” he demands, feeling bold.  
  
“I want to fuck you.” Arthur mumbles the words against his cheek, embarrassed.  
  
Merlin nods. “Okay. Yeah. I want that, too.”  
  
Both of them are eager to get off, and that’s okay, Merlin thinks, because this doesn’t seem like a one-night thing. This seems like the beginning of something, and so he lets Arthur do what he’s never let a man do before. He lets Arthur undress him one item at a time.  
  
The first thing to come off is his shirt, and then Arthur turns him around to unlace the corset, pressing sweet kisses along Merlin’s spine.  
  
“So many nights I’ve wanted to do this. You have no idea . . .”  
  
The admission makes Merlin’s skin flush hot. When he’s bare on top, Arthur runs his hands over every inch, tweaks his nipples, and presses Merlin onto the bed to remove his boots.  
  
It’s intensely erotic, watching Arthur kneeling before him. Merlin moans when Arthur presses a kiss into the arch of his mesh-covered foot, sucks one of his toes into his mouth. It wets the fabric of the stocking and Merlin laughs, ticklish.  
  
“A foot fetish, hmm?” he teases. It feels amazing, but he’s a little embarrassed.  
  
“Not usually,” Arthur says. “You just have really nice feet. And these are hot.” He runs his hand up one of Merlin’s legs.  
  
“Maybe a fishnet fetish, then.”  
  
“Definitely.”  
  
Next comes the leather skirt, and then Merlin is splayed out on Arthur’s bed in nothing but his underwear, garter, and fishnet stockings. It’s impossible to get the leather off without taking off the garter, but Merlin decides to leave the fishnets on. His cock slaps against his stomach as he lies back down, Arthur moving over him, eyes hungry.  
  
“You’re so fucking hot.” Arthur reaches out to stroke his cock, his touch tentative at first.  
  
“Harder,” Merlin pants.  
  
And so Arthur does, his hand a bit clumsy but such a relief Merlin could cry. He arches off the bed, pulls Arthur down into a messy kiss.  
  
“I’ve never done this before,” Arthur says, stroking faster now. “With a guy, I mean.”  
  
“I kinda figured.”  
  
“You’ll have to show me what to do . . .”  
  
“Well, getting you naked might be a good start,” Merlin jokes. The words have barely left his mouth before Arthur’s pulling his shirt over his head, kicking off his pants. His enthusiasm is so endearing Merlin stupidly feels like he’s falling in love. Or maybe he already is. It’s far too confusing to even contemplate, and so he kisses Arthur again and again, their bodies rubbing together now, cocks hard and slippery.  
  
“Lube? Condoms?”  
  
Arthur nods like an over-eager puppy and nearly springs off the bed. He returns with the requisite items and watches as Merlin grabs the lube, squirts some on his fingers to prepare himself.  
  
“Oh my God, I want to do that,” Arthur says as Merlin starts fucking himself with one finger.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Arthur’s hands shake a little as he presses inside, first one finger and, when Merlin demands it, another. Then comes the part Merlin’s really not expecting: Arthur lifts him up and starts tonguing his hole, wetting him with slow, broad swipes. It’s very hard to resist yanking Arthur’s hair and riding his face, but Merlin doesn’t want to freak Arthur out. Not yet, anyway.  
  
When Merlin’s open and ready, Arthur pulls away with a satisfied smile.  
  
“Holy shit,” Merlin says, “where’d you . . .”  
  
“I may have done a little research.”  
  
“Oh, that’s awesome.”  
  
“So how do you want to . . .?” Arthur asks, gesturing.  
  
“Get on your back.”  
  
Merlin readies Arthur, slicks himself with more lube, and slides down onto Arthur’s cock. When he’s taken the whole thing, he groans, rocking back and forth a bit to settle in. God, Arthur has a nice cock; it’s wide and makes Merlin feel so full, he decides he could happily sit on it for the rest of his life.  
  
But they need to come, and so Merlin starts to ride Arthur, slowly at first, then picking up speed. The man below him groans, eyes glazed, hips rocking upward with each of Merlin’s downward grinds, until they’ve built such a perfect rhythm it feels like they’ve fucked a hundred times. Arthur is clearly overwhelmed, his gaze darting from Merlin’s bobbing cock, to the place where they’re joined, to Merlin’s fishnet-clad thighs.  
  
It doesn’t take long before their coupling becomes frantic, Merlin fucking onto Arthur as quickly as he can manage, panting sharply. He’s so close to coming . . . and then Arthur grabs his cock, giving it a few pulls. That’s all it takes; Merlin spurts hot on Arthur’s chest, an orgasm that goes on forever, taking all he has. He realizes they’re both moaning, and then he feels Arthur’s cock pulse inside him and Arthur’s arms pulling him down into an awkward kiss that’s all tongue and breath. And perfect. It’s perfect.  
  
Later, after they’ve cleaned up, Merlin goes to the bathroom wearing one of Arthur’s tee shirts and a pair of his boxers. He looks at himself in the mirror, grimacing at his runny makeup. He looks like the Joker on a bad day.  
  
When he’s not playing Frank, Merlin prefers much more sedate makeup—a little blue eyeshadow, some light mascara. In fact, he’s rarely without it, except when he sleeps.  
  
A cold frission of fear runs though him. Arthur has said he doesn’t mind Merlin’s makeup . . . maybe it even turns him on. So what will he think of Merlin without it? Will he still feel the same?  
  
His worry makes him take far too long in the bathroom. Ultimately, though, he grabs a bar of soap—straight boys never seem to have anything else—and scrubs himself clean.  
  
When he gets back to Arthur’s room, he smiles. Arthur’s already passed out on the bed, mouth open, snoring softly. Merlin turns out the light and climbs in next to Arthur, settling against his side.  
  
In the morning, he wakes with a start, confused until the memories flood back. It seems too perfect to be true, almost like a dream. But then he turns to find Arthur’s already up and watching him, head propped on his hand.  
  
“Good morning, gorgeous,” Arthur says. He kisses Merlin’s cheek, smiles, pulls him close.  
  
“Um . . . good morning,” Merlin replies, a pleasant haze of early morning arousal running through him. From the way the sheet at Arthur’s hips is tenting, it’s going to be a very good morning, indeed.


End file.
